


A Series of Moments

by vampcoffeegyrl23



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 2.14, 2.15, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Reflection, Crying Wolf, F/M, In between moments, Season 2, a few flirty shenanigans, lotsa angst, the dinner party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampcoffeegyrl23/pseuds/vampcoffeegyrl23
Summary: 2.14 Crying Wolf - What was Elena thinking? Why did she bring Stefan to the lake house? Why was she talking about the future? What was in her mind being there for the first time since her parents died? My take on what we didn't get to see. Angst-fic. (transfer from ff.net)
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. A Series of Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Original A.N.: Okay, so I was re-watching "Crying Wolf" last night . . . and I was trying in my head to understand exactly what Elena was thinking. Why did she bring Stefan there? Why was she talking about the future when she knew about Elijah's plans. What crossed her mind seeing this place for the first time since her parents were alive? So . . . I wrote this. It starts out when Stefan and Elena are driving up to the lakehouse and ends with the last scene we see them in the episode. It correlates to the episode, but there are some new scenes in there that I wrote. This is, in my mind anyway, what happened when the cameras were on the other characters. This was actually very mentally exhausting to write . . .it's sad and deeply emotional. There are a few light moments mixed in, but mostly it's just angst. So . . . read on and let me know what you think. :-)

The moment it really sunk in was when they passed the funny looking tree that had a branch shaped like a hand with the middle finger sticking up. Growing up every time they passed that tree Jeremy and she would laugh and joke about it. It was only about a couple of blocks away from the driveway, so passing that was always the 'yay we're almost there' moment.

Now it felt like a knife in the heart.

In the driver's seat, Stefan was smiling. He glanced at her every so often as he drove. He'd been doing that since they left her house. Truthfully, they'd been eye-flirting the entire drive. But once they passed the tree, all Elena could think about was who _wouldn't_ be waiting for her once they got there.

Stefan's red car pulled into the driveway area in front of the house and she felt her insides drop. She gulped, gasping for breath. All she could do was stare through the dash window at the house . . . so many memories coming at her all at once. It was painful and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

She vaguely heard the car stop and felt Stefan's eyes on her. Then he rested his hand on her thigh, squeezing a bit. She couldn't stop staring at the house.

"You alright?"

She could feel the worry radiating off him as he watched her. She swallowed, taking a breath and trying to get rid of the tightness in her chest. "I'm good." She managed. "I just haven't been back here since before . . ." And that's all she got out. She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Stefan looked out, sighing. "Oh my god." He turned in his seat, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. The memories kept washing over her like hot, boiling, scalding water. "Elena listen, just say the word. Alright? We'll get back on that highway. We'll go _anywhere_ else."

Despite the tightness, she felt herself falling in love with him all over again with those words. One specific memory came to mind: She was 14 and Jeremy was 11. It had been the plan all year since October to go to the lakehouse at the end of school that year. Their dad had a good year at the office and they were going to celebrate at the lakehouse. But . . . in March Miranda and Jenna's mother died. By the middle of May, Elena's and Jeremy's mother was in a horrible depression. Nothing the doctors or anybody did would help her. So at the beginning of June Grayson told Miranda that they could postpone the trip or wait a year when she felt better.

However, Miranda told her husband they had a plan and they were going to stick to it. That life was too short to put things on hold. So . . . they went anyway. And when they arrived, Grayson stopped the car―just like Stefan did just now―and asked his wife one more time if she was okay with this. And she said that they've always loved it there . . . . why should that change now?

And the trip continued.

A small smile spread on Elena's lips and she shook her head. She turned to look at Stefan, "I've always loved it here." She said. "I want it to stay that way. I was just . . ." She took a deep breath, letting it out. ". . . having a moment."

"Okay," Stefan nodded, looking into her eyes.

They got out and Elena tried to hold herself together as the oh-so-familiar sights and smells washed over her. She held on tightly to the bag on her shoulder as Stefan fell in step beside her. He reached forward and rested the palm of his hand on the small of her back. She smiled, taking a deep breath. It was as if she could feel his strength run through her. As they got up to the door, his hand dropped. She took the keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. She braced herself, letting the smells of the home reach her senses.

Comforted and feeling stronger knowing Stefan was right behind her, she walked through the threshold and set her bag on the counter right inside. Turning to look, she noticed that Stefan was still outside. "You don't have to wait out there. I'm all good." She started opening her bag.

"Oh, that's great. Because I'm, ah, I'm . . . stuck," Stefan said.

_Stuck_? Seriously? Of all the words he could say . . . _stuck_?. She wanted to laugh . . . but she felt a light moment presenting itself so she took it. She masked her amusement, pretending to be serious and sorry.

"Oh my god . . . you can't get in," She kept her voice low as if this were a serious problem.

"Not gonna be a very _romantic_ weekend unless you, ah, invite me inside," He said.

It took everything she had not to burst out laughing. But . . . she played it cool. "Stefan, I can't." The look on his face was priceless.

"What?" He said.

"My parents left this place to John Gilbert," She lied through her teeth, her resolve about to break. "He's the only one who can invite you in. I'm sorry, I completely forgot." She tried to make it look like she was going to cry instead of laugh . . . but it wasn't working very well.

But . . . he was buying it. "You're kidding me, right?"

Okay, that was it. The look on his face was too much. She couldn't keep this going anymore. A mischievous grin grew on her face as she spoke the next words: "Stefan Salvatore, I hereby invite you into this home." She giggled.

Stefan smirked, shaking his head. He started toward her. "You are such a liar!"

Her giggle turned into an all-out laugh as he grabbed her by the waist and picked her up. "Hey, hey, hey!" She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, wrapping her legs around his waist as he backed them up to the counter. She sat on the wood, running her legs against him as his hands roamed her body.

"Those boots were an _excellent_ choice," He whispers against her ear and it sends shivers of vibrations shooting down her spine.

"Thought you'd like them . . ." She breathed, feeling him reaching down to the hem of her sweater.

"Mmm...I do . . ." He groans into her mouth and she smiled against his. One of his hands snuck up her sweater, touching bare skin.

But then one of the boots fell from her foot and hit the ground, clanking against the wood floor. Something sharp tugged at her chest and she froze. Stefan stopped, pulling his head back to stare into her eyes. "What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't get the words to come out. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and she was still holding her breath. She couldn't breathe . . .

"Elena!" Stefan took hold of her arms and shook her. "Elena, breathe . . ." He shook her harder.

Panic flooded her system and she felt as if her skin is on fire. She still couldn't breathe. She just stared at Stefan helplessly, opening her mouth. The tears ran down her face. Her chest felt like it was on fire. Now she found herself unable to move.

Stefan picked her up and carried her over to the couch. "Elena, come on. You need to breathe!"

She wanted to cry out, to yell, to _breathe_ but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything but cry and watch as Stefan stumbled helplessly around her. Then he disappeared from her sight and the panic felt _worse_. A strangled noise escaped her throat but even she can't tell what it is.

It felt like ages that she laid that way: heart pounding, skin sweating, chest aching, panic rising . . .

Then Stefan appeared over her again. Another strange noise escaped her throat and the tears soaked into her skin. He picked her up and sat her on his lap, hugging her. He wrapped his arms around her back and buried her head in his chest. He didn't do anything but hold her. He rubbed her back and whispered "it's okay, I'm right here" in her ear over and over again. She felt his tears fall on the top of her head and then something clicked inside her.

She let out a huge breath and a horrible sob escaped her lips. She breathed deeply in and out even as she cried against him.

"It's okay, Elena. Just breathe," Stefan whispered. "Please just keep breathing . . ." The heat in her skin hadn't gone away and she heard a ringing sound in her ears. "Oh my god, you're burning up." Stefan held her back and looks at her face. He turned into a blur in front of her. His words started to echo and she could barely make out the words. "Take a drink, it'll help."

A blurry glass crossed her vision and she opened her mouth. She felt the cool glass touch her lips and ice-cold water trickled into her mouth and down her throat. Some dripped down her chin but Stefan just used his sleeve to wipe it off. He poured some more down until she started to cough and takes the glass away.

Slowly, her vision un-blurred. The ringing in her ears went down and she could hear normally again. The heat all but disappeared and then she was cold.

She wanted to talk, to say something, but Stefan shook his head. "Give it a minute, babe. Just keep breathing." She nodded a little, breathing deeply in and out of her mouth. Stefan watched her closely, still holding her at arm's length away.

She looked around the room, but the memories were too much. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against Stefan's chest, continuing to breathe. She felt his arms wrap tighter around her and one of his hands returned to the small of her back. The feeling – as it had while walking up to the door – gave her strength. She opened her eyes and sat up, relaxing into his arms.

"Are you okay, now?" He asked timidly.

"Y-yeah . . ." She forced out.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. She knew how much she scared him . . . probably as much as she scared herself. She adjusted herself so she was laying on her side next to him. She noticed that she only had one boot on and the last few moments come back to her.

"It was one of our last times here," She said out loud. Stefan was silent. "The boot . . . the noise . . ." She took hold of one of his hands, entwining it with hers, holding it tight. She took a deep breath. "Jenna was home from school and came with us. Jeremy and I were upstairs playing video games in his room while Mom, Jenna, and Dad made dinner . . . we were laughing, and teasing each other." She breathed, tears falling down her face. "Then we heard this noise . . ." She stopped. Stefan's hold on her hand tightened. "We raced downstairs to check it out . . . and Jeremy and I fell down the stairs. The controller in his hand hit the wood and made such a loud noise when it shattered . . . but it was louder when we hit the ground. I was pretty much okay but Jeremy . . . he wouldn't wake up. Mom and Dad and Jenna raced in and Dad, being the doctor, went to Jeremy."

She stopped a moment to breathe, so the pain and tightness wouldn't come back. Stefan put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't say a word.

When she felt she had her composure back, she continued, swallowing. "Um . . . then we dropped everything and drove to the hospital. I just had a fractured wrist but Jeremy had a pretty severe concussion . . . he was unconscious for a while."

"What was the noise you'd heard?" Stefan asked.

"Dad dropping a wooden spoon," Elena sighed.

"So when your boot dropped on the floor . . ." Stefan put the pieces together. Elena nodded.

Neither of them said anything after that. They both fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Sometime later Elena awoke to a very dry, bitter, scratchiness in her throat. She still felt warm – especially wrapped in Stefan's strong arms – and she started to feel the tightness in her chest again. She unwrapped herself from his arms and got up, standing on unsteady feet. She swayed a moment, reaching for the glass of water on the table in the middle of the room. She took a good, long drink and the dizziness started to go away. She put the glass down and grabbed a blanket off the back of the chair. She walked slowly back to the entryway where her boot lay forgotten on the floor.

For a moment, she just stared at the fallen boot. She remembers when she bought them with Stefan in mind. He always teased her about her shoe closet . . . which contained many pairs of only two kinds of shoes: converse tennis shoes and knee-length high-heeled boots. They happened to be her two favorite kinds of footwear. One day while shopping with Bonnie and Caroline she'd found a pair of boots that Caroline had called 'sex-boots'. Although blushing and giggling, Elena could picture in her mind Stefan's reaction to those very boots. Bonnie convinced her to buy them . . . and she did.

She bent down and picked up the boot, sliding it back on her stocking foot. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and with one last look at a sleeping Stefan, opened the sliding door and walked across the yard to the wooden dock.

As she stared out at the calm water she thought about other memories. When she felt the tightness in her chest return, she just thought of Stefan and his smile when he saw her pull the boots out of her closet earlier that morning.

Then she thought about why she decided the day before that she wanted to bring Stefan here. Her deal with Elijah was always on her mind and if he would hold up his end of the bargain. She didn't think she could go through with any of this if he didn't. When they'd made the bargain she noticed that he hadn't promised to keep her safe...just the ones she loved. It was then that she really understood that there would be no saving her. Klaus would use her to break the curse, drain her blood, kill her . . . but then Elijah would kill Klaus, and everyone that she loved would be safe.

If she really were to die soon . . . she wanted to really live her life while she could. She wanted to bring the man who made her feel safe and loved to the place that once made her feel safe and loved. She hoped he would see that she loved him and wanted him to be okay after she was gone. As much as she wanted a future _with_ him . . . she wanted to make sure _he_ would have a future.

"Having another moment?" She heard him say and then he was right behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

She wanted to talk to him about this . . . but it wasn't time. Instead, she opened up memory lane hoping to _get_ to the right time. She pointed out toward the end of the dock, holding on to his hand. She can already feel the tears coming. "Jeremy broke his arm diving off this dock. He was six." She sighed, pointing to another spot. "My dad taught me how to fish right off the edge over there." He held her tighter. "So many memories . . ." She waited a moment before she spoke, wishing she could stop but wanting to know what he'd say anyway. "Do you ever think about us? What our future will be like? _Our_ memories?"

"I think there's a lot of conversations to be had about our future," He said and she was silently glad he wasn't specific. "The kind of life we could have together."

It was almost too much for her to hear the hope in his voice and she didn't think she could handle anymore future talk – especially about a future she'd never get to have. Her voice threatened to betray her but it needed to be said to squash the conversation. "Now there's a . . . box we shouldn't open . . ." Her throat felt tight and she took a few breaths.

His next words tore a hole in her heart and she almost broke down: "We can open it . . . whenever you're ready." It hurt to hear how much he actually wanted it. Wanted them.

She swallowed the tears, shaking her head. "N-No . . ." She traced lines on his hands. "I-I'd rather just be here. Now." She was glad he wasn't looking at her or he would or sure know exactly what she was thinking.

His breath in her ear was actually emotionally painful, "Well then this is a future memory." She honestly didn't know what he was about to say but she wanted to remember it for whatever time she had left. She turned her head slightly, waiting. He was right against her ear, "It's where your boyfriend whispered to you that he loved you." And despite the pain and sadness in her heart, she smiled because maybe, just maybe it will all work out and she _could_ remember this for all of eternity and have a future with him. "I love you . . ." His words traveled deep in her heart and she smiled more and held him . . .

. . . and for just one moment forgot that she didn't have much longer to live.

They stood there for a while, watching the water, wrapped up in each other's arms. Birds fly around, fish jump up from the surface, other animals can be heard nearby. She was normally not much of an outdoorsy person but the lakehouse always brought it out in her. Something about nature in this place was so peaceful . . . it was almost relaxing.

Later as the sun began to descend she felt her legs begin to tire from standing so long. Plus, high heeled boots weren't exactly comfortable enough to be on your feet all day. Her feet were raised from under her and Stefan was holding her bridal style in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as he walks to the house. He mumbled something about dinner but she shook her head and continued kissing him.

They ended up on the couch they slept on before . . . but they didn't really do any sleeping. The touches and kisses were slow and relaxed and Elena felt herself melt inside him as they united in a way they never had before. As they finished together they laid tangled in a beautiful mass of sweaty limbs.

Blissfully she rested her head next to his, leaning over to kiss him, then lay her head on the couch cushion beside him. "How are you feeling?" He asked, speaking quietly. He ran his fingers along the skin inside her upper arm, something he'd done many times.

"After that? Heavenly," She teased, smiling. He, too, smiled. "But seriously, I feel so much better. You always make me feel better. It's one of the things I love about you." 

"That's good," He nodded. "Because I love making you feel better."

"And I love―" She spoke but was interrupted by a noise . . . her stomach growled.

"When I make you food?" He suggested, smiling. "Good thought." She giggled. "How about we get dressed and I make you an amazing and authentic Italian dinner?"

"Mmm..." She nodded. "I think my tummy loves you too." She leaned over and kissed him again, giggling.

* * *

The next time she felt a panic attack rising in her chest, all she had to do is stare into Stefan's eyes and it went away. The memories were now nothing more than that: good memories that she could remember and be happy about.

They're both dressed now. He was at the island in the kitchen chopping vegetables with a smile on his face and she was across the room leaning over the back of the couch with a half-full wine glass in her hand watching him. It's an image she'd seen a lot growing up . . . even at their house in Mystic Falls.

Stefan looked up at her briefly and she swirled the wine a bit. "My dad did all the cooking too."

"And your mom?" Stefan said, aware that she was having another moment but relieved it was a good, calm one.

"She sat right here and watched," Elena told him, and they both laughed. "She couldn't cook either." He threw some of the ingredients in a bowl and she turned around. She noticed the fire had gone down. "Fire's dying." She leaned over and set her glass down.

Stefan glanced over, "Oh yeah. I'll go get more wood."

She pushed her blanket off, "I got it." He walked toward her and she stood.

He shook his head, "It's cold outside."

"Hey," She grazed his chest with her hand and he held on to her elbow. "So I'll get a jacket." She let her hand fall as she turned to walk towards the bedroom across the way . . .

. . . and the minute she walked in she was immediately overwhelmed. It was her parent's room, with the perfect mixture of their smells, their memories. It was like walking into a time capsule.

She felt Stefan's presence not far behind her and it gave her strength as she looked around the room. The closet, the bed, then her gaze fell on her mother's dresser still full of her cosmetics and other things. It almost hurt to look at but it also felt good to be in there . . . to feel as she once did when they were alive.

She saw the bottle of perfume her mother always used and smiled, going over to it. She picked it up, her heart pounding, and took off the cap. She brought the open bottle to her nose and sniffed, closing her eyes. It was exactly the way her mother always smelled . . . it almost made it feel like her mother was in the room . . .

But then reality came back when she heard Stefan in the doorway. She recapped the bottle, "My mom's perfume." She explained and Stefan nodded. She took in the sights of the room again, headed to the closet. "Jenna was supposed to pack all this up but . . . she kept putting it off." She turned on the light in the closet like she'd done a million times and her hand brushed against her father's jackets. On the back wall of the closet on a hanger was a sweater-shawl that her mother wore often – it had been her mother's – Elena's grandmother's. "Guess I don't blame her."

She turned her head and picked up the red plaid jacket her dad had worn often. She turned, " Here." She tossed it to Stefan. "Bundle up." He smiled, putting it on over his blue shirt. "It was my great-granddad's."

Once it was on she honestly couldn't help but notice how good Stefan looked in it, like it was made for him. "You look very hot in it." She voiced, smiling.

Stefan just gave her a look, "I look . . . hot . . . in your dead great-granddad's jacket . . ."

She knew how ridiculous it sounded. . . but she couldn't help it. "Beyond hot." She nodded, giggling.

He sauntered over to her, his eyes hooded as he wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her. She smiled into his lips as he pushed her backward. "Stefan . . ." She gently pushed his head back. "This is my parent's bedroom."

He just smiled, kissing her again, and her head oh-so-gently collided with the wall behind them. She melted into his kiss but then he pulled away. She giggled. "What?"

He reached behind her and knocked on the wood. "Hmmm..."

"What?" Elena repeated.

"This is hollow inside," He said. She frowned, backing up. He pulled the wood panels off the wall and indeed there was a wooden door behind the panels. The door had a lock on it and it was closed.

Elena certainly didn't remember _this_ growing up. "What is it?" She said.

"A really good hiding place." Stefan broke the lock with ease and pushed the door open. He reached up and pulled on a string that turned on a light.

Elena hovered in the background. Inside the tiny hidden room was weapons of every shape and kind . . . most of them wooden. Tailored for killing vampires. Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. "Oh my god . . ."

She noticed that Stefan stepped back and she took the opportunity to go forward inside the room. It was certainly never there when she was growing up. Or, if it was, she'd never known about it.

"John was right," She mumbled. Stefan raised his brow. She turned, explaining. "Jeremy said that John told him our dad was against vampires too . . . I guess I never really thought about it until now . . ."

She looked on the bookshelf and saw multiple old-looking leather-bound books. She picked one up. "These must be the other Jonathan Gilbert journals. Jeremy had the one but John said that there were others." She unwrapped the string and opened the book. "His whole life's in here."

"I'll go get the firewood," Stefan, sensing another moment, volunteered. "Let you have a moment."

She heard what he said but didn't really process it. She reached down near the floor and picked up a handful of wooden bullets. She heard Stefan walk away. It was all just so surreal . . . her dad had this whole other side of him that she or Jeremy – or Jenna, really – knew nothing about. And now, with everything going on . . .

It just all the more made her miss her mom and dad. She wondered if they were still alive if they would like Stefan or even understand that he wouldn't hurt anyone. Would they help with Elijah and Klaus?

Had they known about the sun and the moon curse too? Did they know that their daughter was the doppelganger? Did they know about Katherine and Isobel?

Her head spun with a million different questions she'd never get to ask.

She searched through everything in the room hastily, desperately trying to find answers she knew weren't there. She got lost in the search until a cold draft wafted in the room and gave her a chill.

Why wasn't Stefan back yet? Where was he?

She dropped what she was doing, attempting to clean it up in case John came back later. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and descended the stairs, looking for Stefan.

She frowned when she found the front door wide open. Well, that explained the chill. But . . . where was Stefan? "Are you growing the trees out there?" She called out, chuckling. But there wasn't an answer . . . or any kind of noise for that matter. An intense feeling of dread soaked through her skin. She started walking toward the door, her heart pounding. "Stefan?" She called out again. There was no answer. The dread turned to fear.

Remembering the knife Stefan left on the counter earlier, she discreetly and carefully hid it behind her back as she continued forward. As she reached the door, she said, "Stefan, what are you doing out there?"

She was starting to get really scared. She felt a presence behind her but every instinct in her body told it it _wasn't_ Stefan. She turned, holding the knife, and stabbed through skin. Her eyes widened when she saw a guy she'd _never_ met before. He dropped to the ground in pain as she hastily made her way inside.

Oh god, oh god, oh god . . . where was Stefan? Was he okay? Who was this man? She closed the door and locked it. Panting, she made her way as quiet as she could up the stairs. Just as she rounded the corner she heard the front door crack and splinter. Ok . . . whoever this was was _not_ human. So, the only question was: vampire, werewolf, or witch?

She ran across the floor to the room that was always Jeremy's.

"I can smell you . . ."

The voice filled her with dread and she knew what he was: werewolf. Probably one of the ones who'd attacked Stefan and Caroline and Damon in the woods. Wait, smell . . . She quickly undid the buttons of her sweater and pulled it off, leaving it on the bed.

She ran across the hall to the bedroom that was usually hers and quietly closed the door. She covered her mouth and nose, hoping to hide the fact that she was breathing so hard. She heard the man come up the stairs and go into Jeremy's room. She opened the door a crack and, seeing that he had his back turned, quietly left the room and went back down the stairs.

At the bottom, she looked out into the living room before seeing the partially open front door. She slammed the door shut – on purpose – and ran into her parent's bedroom. She opened the hidden door and picked up a thick wooden stake and hid in the other closet across the room.

When she heard him open the hidden door she lunged from the closet, rushed at him, and brought the stake down hard into the back of his shoulder. Seeing the knife she'd used on him before, she picked it up and ran out of the room before he could recover. She ran out of the room, through the living room, and out the door outside. If she could just get to the car . . .

But then she heard a sickening _splat_. She jumped, turning around. Stefan had a hold of the werewolf, tearing his heart right out of his chest. She gasped as the werewolf fell dead to the ground. It was then that she noticed her boyfriend was swaying, standing on unsteady feet. Then she saw the blood on his chest...oh god right over his heart.

As he swayed, he stumbled toward her. "It's okay." His voice was weak. She dropped the knife and rushed toward him. "You're okay. It's okay . . ." His eyes drooped and she hurried to catch him before he fell. She hugged him tight, not letting him go, and closed her eyes.

She sighed. Couldn't these damn werewolves just leave them alone for _one day?_ She breathed in his scent and wouldn't let him go.

"It's okay." He said again.

She opened her eyes and saw Tyler walking toward them from where the garage was. She frowned. "Tyler?" She stood up but didn't let go of Stefan.

Tyler shrugged. He looked absolutely torn. "I didn't know what they were gonna do to you. I didn't."

She turned to Stefan, confused. Why was Tyler there?

"I just . . . I don't want to be like this anymore!"

She glanced at Stefan, satisfied he was recovered enough that he wouldn't pass out and started walking toward Tyler. None of this was his fault . . . he was just alone and confused. He looked at her as if thinking she would attack him . . .but instead she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and hugged him. Sometimes she forgot with everything going on that he was involved in this too . . . except he didn't have friends and family around him to help him through it.

"I'm sorry, Elena . . ." He choked on his words.

"It's okay . . ." She told him, sighing. She wished he wouldn't have to be in this. She wished none of them did. She just hoped that Elijah would keep his word so that once the sacrifice was over . . . everyone she cared about could be safe and have a normal life.

She pulled back and noticed that Stefan was staggering again. He needed blood, soon, so he could heal. She let go of Tyler and went back to Stefan, holding him up. When she looked up, Tyler was gone. So was the other werewolf's body. Sighing, she focused on Stefan. "You okay?" She asked.

He shook his head, leaning into her. She guided him into the house and helped him sit down on the couch. "One of the wooden bullets punctured my heart." Was all he said and she understood. She'd almost lost him tonight.

"I'll get you some blood," She started to get up but he shook his head, pulling her down.

He covered his chest with his head, grunting in pain. "No . . ." He took a few breaths. "It has to be human. Animal won't heal fast enough . . ." She took that in. They hadn't brought any hospital blood bags with them. Just bottled animal blood.

Then an idea struck her and she got up. "Hold on a minute." She went into the kitchen and picked up a knife. She went back to Stefan, sitting beside him.

"Elena, what are you doing?" He panted, still clutching his heart.

"You need this, Stefan," She told him. She started to lower the knife to her wrist but he pushed it away. "Stefan . . ."

"Not there," He said. "You'll bleed too fast . . . I won't be able to heal you." He guided the knife higher on her arm, away from arteries and veins. She nodded, making a face as she sliced her skin. She put the knife on the table. Blood started to flow and she put her arm against his mouth. He drank, slowly feeling the tear in his heart begin to heal. He let go of her arm and clamped his hand over the wound. He bit the inside of his wrist. "You need to heal that before it gets infected."

She nodded, leaning down to drink his blood. Under Stefan's hand, the wound on her arm disappeared. She raised her head and got up, going to where they kept their bags. She grabbed another shirt for Stefan. As he lay there still weak, she pulled off her great-granddad's jacket and his ruined blue shirt and put on the new brown button-down one. Then she laid down next to him, leaning into his chest.

He stroked her hair, massaging her temples. "That was too close . . ." She whispered.

"It was," Stefan nodded. "Let's not do that again."

"Definitely not," She sighed. "So much for our weekend away . . ."

"Yeah," He sighed too. "I should call Damon, fill him in."

But before he could move, the cell phone in his pocket rang. "Speak of the devil." Elena chuckled. She sat up, cold, and went upstairs to get her sweater. She put it on as she descended the, buttoning it.

Stefan stared out the glass doors, still on the phone. He hung up, turning around to face her. "It was, ah, it was Damon." He confirmed. "We need to talk."

"What is it?" She asked.

He crossed his arms. "We learned that Elijah's planning for you to die in the sacrifice ritual."

She tensed up, ashamed, and looked down. They finally knew. She sighed. "I know the deal I made, Stefan. Elijah's very careful with his words." She hated that she had to say this...but he needed to know. She took a deep breath. "He promised to protect my friends . . . he never said a word about me."

She hated the look on his face . . . it broke her heart. "You mean . . . you knew you weren't going to survive this?"

"If it comes down to the people that I love getting killed or me . . . I know what my choice is gonna be." She told him.

"Elena, how could you stand out there earlier with me talking about making plans for a future . . . when you don't even expect to have one?" He said.

She knew that brief moment of pretend would come back to haunt her. "I'm sorry, Stefan. I'm just trying to keep the people I love safe. I'm trying to keep _you_ safe." Her voice trembled.

"No!" His also trembled. "What you're doing is . . . you're being a martyr!"

Wait, what? "How is that any different from when you say that you would die to keep _me_ safe?"

"Because I've already lived! 162 years I have lived and you've barely begun. Now you wanna let yourself be killed? That's not heroic," He stared her in the face and the way his eye bore into her soul hurt so much. "That's _tragic_."

He walked away and she wanted so much to go after him . . . but she couldn't. She sighed deeply. Why couldn't he see that she was trying to save everyone? That it would be better if she were to die?

He disappears outside and she knew more than her heart hurt . . . his did. But that didn't mean she'd give up her belief that her death was the only way to save everyone.

She trudged up the stairs, not tired, and decided to read Jonathan Gilbert's journals. Maybe there would be answers in there, maybe it would confirm her beliefs, or maybe she could get lost in the past and forget about her non-existent future for five minutes.

_to be continued..._


	2. A Difference of Opinion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . here's part 2 which takes us through 2.15 "The Dinner Party".

The first thing that she noticed when she awoke hours later was that Stefan never came to bed. The light was still on from her adventures into Jonathan Gilbert's journals, the books were scattered over the bedspread, and her arm had a cramp in it from sleeping on it.

_Stefan never came to bed_.

Never at any point in their relationship – even during their "break up" following Jenna's stabbing injury – had they _ever_ disagreed to this level. She sat up, stretching her tired muscles, and pushed the books farther on the bed.

The pain in her heart hurt far worse than her cramped arm.

The light was just starting to make an appearance outside and a quick glance to the clock on the nightstand revealed it to be five in the morning.

Where was Stefan?

She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, rubbing her eyes. She walked out of the room, still rubbing her eyes. As she went around the house she still didn't find Stefan. He was just. . . gone. He wouldn't just leave, would he? She hurried to the living room window and looked out, taking a deep sigh of relief when she saw his red car still in the driveway. Okay, so he was still here . . . but where?

She yawned, finding her mouth dry, and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. She pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. The cool water felt good on her dry throat – leftover soreness from her panic attack the day before.

As she looked out the kitchen window, she saw Stefan standing out on the dock. He was wearing different clothes and she vaguely remembered hearing the water from the shower run during the night. His back was turned to her as he skipped rocks, whipping them harshly off the dock.

She wondered if he'd been out there all night. She wasso worried about him but knows they're both too stubborn to end this fight. Always before with any fight they had – which were minimal –, it would always end with an 'I'm sorry' and a myriad of kisses through the night.

But this one was much bigger . . . it wasn't over Damon or his blood-drinking problem or John or Katherine or anything else. It was about their difference of opinion over _Elena_ 's life. Her life . . . the one she was ready, willing, and able to give up in order to protect him and everyone else she loved.

So as much as she wanted to go out there and call a truce and stumble into the bedroom kissing . . . she wouldn't. Because she believed she was right and wasn't going to give in.

She put the bottle down and started a pot of coffee. Then she moved all Jonathan Gilbert's journals from her room to downstairs on the coffee table in the living room. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and sat down in the armchair next to the back patio doors. She watched Stefan throwing the rocks for a moment before diving back in where she'd left off the night before in Jonathan Gilbert's journal:

_With the dying embers of the fire at Fell's Church, the scourge of the vampires had passed. And though war raged all around us, our town was safe from the demons of the night. Or, so we thought. The monsters we drove to their fiery deaths had beget new monsters._

Elena read how Jonathan described as a vampire attacked him, Honoria Fell, and her husband Thomas Fell as they dined. Honoria had heard a noise and Thomas went outside to check. Jonathan followed to ease her fears and took the vampire-finding compass.

But soon after Jonathan stepped outside, the compass went off. Thomas disappeared – only to be dropped dead at Jonathan's feet moments later. Honoria came outside and was the next to die.

_I knew I was about to die. You cannot run from a vampire. I saw the vampire who killed me. I recognized him. It was Stefan Salvatore . . ._

Elena's heart skipped a beat. She looked up from the journal and turned outside to where Stefan was pacing on the dock. Her boyfriend the vampire who was angry at her for trying to sacrifice her own life . . . the one who'd saved her life and her friends . . .

He killed the Founding Families . . . including her ancestor.

Why had he never told her? Back when he'd had the problem with human blood he told her the blood made him different. They'd talked about Damon and Katherine and Giuseppe and how he been a different person back then. He'd told her all that . . . but why had he not told her about this?

She read on as Jonathan described a monstrous Stefan viciously attacking him, tearing his throat out and draining him before leaving him in the grass. Hours later when he woke up he remembered the rings he'd invented to keep him and his son safe.

Elena looked over to a picture on the table of her parents, seeing the ring on her dad's finger that Jeremy now had. She thought of the ring Isobel had given Alaric. She remembered when Bonnie showed her Emily's grimoire. Emily must have spelled the rings to make Jonathan think he'd invented them. The only question was . . . why were only two made? And why only for the Gilberts?

She flipped through the pages anxiously hoping to find the answer. She wondered if Emily somehow, someway, knew something about the future and a Gilbert's involvement in the sun and moon curse. Had Katherine known? Was that part of the reason she came to Mystic Falls in the first place?

She reread the part where Stefan attacked Jonathan . . . maybe she'd missed something―

The door opened loudly and she jumped. Stefan just looked at her and she could still see the anger on his face. She sighed, watching as he took off his jacket, setting it on the chair. Then he looked at her and guilt jumped in her throat.

Her voice was calm, "Are you still mad?" As disturbing as it was reading about him as a monstrous vampire, she knew it was all in the past. He would never hurt her or anyone else anymore. It just bothered her that he hadn't told her.

He huffed, his hands on his hips, as he turned to face her. "Yeah. I'm still mad."

"We have a difference of opinion, Stefan. We're not always going to agree on everything," As guilty as she felt, she still wasn't going to give in.

"Elena, you've agreed to sacrifice yourself to Klaus. To say that we have a 'difference of opinion' is the understatement of the century," He said.

"You would know," She threw back.

He smirked, chuckling.

She bit back her smile, still not so happy herself. She didn't understand why he couldn't see her side of it and she didn't like that he'd kept from her the fact that he _murdered_ her ancestor.

He crossed his arms, looking at the journals. "What does Jonathan Gilbert have to say?"

She lifted the book, wondering if he already knew what was in it. Should she tell him? "A lot." She thumbed through it. "It's insane. The things that he wrote in his journal. What he kept from the Founding Families." She handed him the book. "Stuff that nobody knows. Stuff that . . . _you_ never told me." Her eyes searched his. He didn't seem angry that he'd been caught . . . just ashamed. She looked down. He opened the book.

She bit her lip, unsure of what the next few moments would bring. Would he deny it? Would he be angry that she knew? Would he cry in shame on her lap?

He closed the book, winding the string around it. "We were, ah . . ."

She looked up, determined to just listen to what he had to say.

"We were angry at the Founding Families for, ah, what they did to Katherine." Her eyes found his and she felt touched by his honesty. She knew this wasn't easy for him. "We wanted revenge. I didn't know about Jonathan Gilbert's ring yet." He sat down across from her. "I didn't know that he would . . . that he would survive."

"He described you as a _monster_ ," She knew how it sounded but she couldn't help it.

He nodded, shame in his eyes. "It's what I was." He stared right in her eyes, not faltering. "I want you to know the truth. But I want you to hear it from me." He put Jonathan's journal down on the table. She pulled the blanket over her . . . and she listened.

"In the weeks after I became a vampire, I relished in it," He told her. She remembered how he'd been when she'd seen him on the human blood and inwardly cringed. She tried not to let him see . . . but he did. Guilt and shame and sadness filled his face . . . but he continued. "I took it to the darkest place I could." He cleared his throat, still looking her in the eye. "Girls." He croaked. "Dozens and dozens of them."

"Girls?" Elena raised her eyebrow.

"They were young . . . and their blood was . . . sweet," Stefan told her, looking down. "It was addicting."

Elena nodded, remembering when he went after Amber at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant.

"They were so easy to compel," He shook his head, sighing. "So willing . . . all of them. And . . . I enjoyed it . . ." He looked up. "I wasn't myself then. I was full of guilt. What I did to my father . . . to my brother . . . I had to turn it off. It was the only way I could survive."

"It sounds like you were Damon," She couldn't believe she'd just said that.

He just shook his head, staring off into nothing. "No . . . I was _worse_."

Her breath caught in her throat. Worse . . . how could that be possible? It all suddenly became too much for her. How could he be worse?

He stood up, going into the kitchen. She pushed the blanket off her, standing. She felt too confined between the memories of the house and the new information that her boyfriend was once worse than his brother. She went to look out the window . . . at the wide-open sky. She heard Stefan in the kitchen.

She looked out, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm. The last thing either of them needed right now was for her to have another panic attack.

Stefan walked toward her, continued, but she didn't turn around. "For weeks I kept spiraling, driven by the desire for blood." She turned slightly when he was right next to her and he handed her a cup of coffee. "Hunt. Prey. Kill. It was all I knew."

She didn't know what to say so she just took a drink. It almost felt like he's talking about someone else. _Her_ Stefan would never do that. Well, except for that one time . . . but she brought him out of it. And, she would do it again. But . . . "How come no one caught on to what you were doing?"

"There was a war going on," He told her. She nodded, vaguely remembering Alaric's lessons on that war. "The thing about wartime? Endless anonymous bullet supply. It was dark and everyone was so busy with what they were doing they didn't notice."

They both took a drink.

"I noticed a girl, a nurse I guess, helping some of the sick. I'd never seen her before . . . and after so many sick and dying soldiers . . ." Stefan gulped. "I craved a young girl. So . . . I followed her out deeper into the woods. I stalked her and I was going to attack her . . . but she beat me to it. Called me an idiot." He smirked.

"Who was she?" Elena said.

"Alexia Branson, as she was known back then," Stefan said, a twinge of hurt in his voice.

"Lexi?" Elena raised her eyebrows. He hadn't talked about Lexi since she'd died. Stefan nodded, sighing. "Your best friend, Lexi? That's how you met her?" Stefan nodded again. "What was she even doing in Mystic Falls?"

Stefan shrugged, "She had heard it was a good place for vampires to go. Had no idea that they'd all been massacred. Needed a place to crash, so . . . I brought her home with me."

When he said he brought her home, for a moment Elena wondered if they'd ever slept together. She knew it was absurd to be jealous of a dead vampire . . . but she couldn't help it. Stefan had even told her when Lexi first come to town that she was his best friend and nothing ever happened. Still, though, sometimes she wondered.

"I brought her to the place Damon and I had been staying while we hid from the Founding Families but, ah, I'd forgotten to dispose of the bodies." He looked down, ashamed. "She called me a Ripper . . . told me there were 'good' and 'bad' parts of being a vampire and I was the bad parts." He sighed. "Said she was going to change me. Help me see the good parts. I, ah, I resisted. I found her annoying – at first – and I didn't understand any other way to be a vampire than I'd seen from Katherine."

He looked down, away from Elena, then looked back.

Her gaze softened, her voice calm, "Are you okay?"

She knew he was still mad at her, but she could also see that the memories were beginning to take their toll on him.

He nodded, looking down. "Talking about her brings up things that I'd, ah, rather forget."

She sighed, "Like Damon killing her."

He nodded and she hated the pain in his eyes. She always hated to see him hurting.

Stefan cleared his throat, "Um . . . I'm going to go step outside for a moment. Take a walk."

She nodded. He needed a moment. He needed to hunt. He needed to be alone. Neither of them needed to say anything. There was nothing to say. They were both comfortable with this part of his life. He needed to feed, to hunt, and she understood. At this point in their relationship, it was the most normal part of their lives.

After he left, she made herself something to eat and returned to her ancestor's journals. As she got farther in his life, the farther out his sanity became. He became consumed with learning anything and everything he could about the vampires. He pushed his son – the only family he had left – away, putting up walls that would never be broken down.

Sure, he talked about his family. His son got married, had children, and continued the Gilbert line. But Jonathan seemed to only be a casual observer – someone to record the family history. These records only covered about three pages in one of the journals.

The rest was about vampires, werewolves, witches . . . detailed, recorded facts and musings that went on for pages and pages. By the end, it was if Jonathan thought of nothing but vampires.

* * *

Hours later, Elena heard the front door open and saw Stefan walk in through the corner of her eye. She didn't look up as she talked, deeply immersed in her ancestor's words. "Jonathan Gilbert got crazier and crazier. Guess that's what happens when you spend your life obsessed with vampires." She sighed, setting the book on the table in front of her, and picked up another one.

Stefan walked toward her but stayed back a bit, leaning on one of the wooden columns. Elena opened up the next journal. Warning bells flashed in her brain when one word flew off the page in front of her: _Originals_. "He researched the Originals . . ." She said aloud.

"You're kidding," Stefan sat next to her.

"Later in life. Look," She pointed to the page as he sat down. She flipped through the book. "Pages and pages of questions a-and scribbles . . ." She stopped on a page with a dagger-like drawing. "What's that?"

She felt Stefan tense next to her as he stared at the page.

She read: " _'The wood from one tree and one tree alone, an ancient white oak, would bring death to an Original vampire. When the tree burned, all hope was thought lost.'_ " She looked up at Stefan. "He was trying to figure out how to kill an Original." She continued reading. " _'But the ash from the tree was saved and witches forged the dagger to which the ash could be bonded. This alchemic bond provides the necessary poison that_ _―"_

"Elena . . ." Stefan said, standing, turning toward her, but she wasn't paying attention.

"I wonder if this is true!" She said. "Do you think that this dagger actually exists?"

"I know it does," Stefan said.

She looked up, confused.

"Because John gave it to Damon," He told her.

She was confused. That didn't make sense. "John gave Damon the weapon that's supposed to kill Elijah? This one?" She pointed in the book. Stefan nodded. "' _It must be brandished by humans alone, for it will bring death to all demons who wield it.'_ "

Stefan snatched the book from her hands, reading it for himself. There was a look of panic on his face. "John's trying to get Damon killed." Stefan threw the book down and took out his cell phone, dialing Damon's number. "Why is your phone off. Call me!" Stefan shouted, leaving Damon a message.

Elena didn't like this. "What's going on, Stefan?" Why did it feel like he was hiding something from her?

Stefan sighed, staring right at her. "Damon is planning on killing Elijah." She stood up. "Tonight."

"We have to stop him!" She said.

"He won't answer his phone," Stefan let out a breath. "Wait, he said something about a dinner party . . . I'll try Alaric . . ."

Elena nodded, "Hurry, Stefan . . ."

He dialed Alaric's number. It was answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"You have to tell Damon to stop. Don't let him kill Elijah. Don't let him, Ric." Stefan blurted out.

"Wh-whoa, slow down. Stefan?" Ric said.

"Yes – don't let Damon kill Elijah. Only humans can use the dagger. If he uses the dagger to kill Elijah he will die too." Stefan told him.

"Okay, okay," Alaric said. "Um . . . um . . . I'll figure something out . . .I'll do it . . ."

"He could kill you before you had the chance," Stefan shook his head. Elena's eyes widened.

"I'll surprise him," Alaric said.

"N-no . . ." Stefan said but it was too late. Alaric hung up. Elena looked at him expectantly. Stefan sighed. "He said he would do it."

"Elijah could kill him!" Elena said.

"I know . . ." Stefan said.

"This is not good . . ." Elena sat down, taking a deep breath. "What do we do?"

Stefan sighed, "Honestly . . . we just have to wait."

Elena stood up, pacing. "Oh god . . . this is not good . . . I-I . . . I need some air . . ." She heaved, headed for the balcony door. She opened the door and gasped as the cold air hit her face. There were so many ways that this could go wrong . . .

She stood next to the railing, staring out into the woods. Again Stefan had kept her out of the loop of what they were doing. He and Damon had done it when they decided to try to kill Katherine at the Masquerade ball and _Elena_ had ended up hurt and kidnapped because of it. They'd decided to get the moonstone away from Katherine and Jeremy had been bitten and Stefan stuck in the tomb. Stefan decided to go find Isobel and brought John of all people back.

She was sick of it. It was _her life_ Klaus wanted to end. It was _her life_ that Elijah hadn't promised to protect. _She_ was the doppelganger. _She_ was willing to give up _her life_ to protect all the people she loved – Stefan, Damon, Bonnie, Jeremy, Caroline, Tyler, Jenna, Ric, Matt, _the entire world_ – away from Klaus and they kept making decisions for her like she was a child that couldn't be trusted to do anything by herself.

She heard Stefan open the door and she inwardly rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Elena, we need to talk about this."

"What good is talking if you and Damon are just gonna lie to me?" She turned to face him. "If you don't like my decisions, that's fine. There's nothing I can do about that but if you _ever_ go behind my back again I'll―"

"You're gonna what?" He interrupted her. "What are you gonna do, Elena?"

"It's _my_ life!" She shouted.

"Yeah – exactly. It's _your_ life," Stefan shouted back. "And I'm going to everything I can to make sure you _live_ it."

"So what, this 'trip through the past', you being honest? Was there any truth to that or were you just distracting me?" She couldn't believe him right now. After everything she'd gone through the day before, sharing some pretty painful moments with him. Things she hadn't talked about for months. Hell, even having a panic attack so severe she couldn't _breathe_ . . .

"I was telling you about a time when I thought everything was _lost_ ," He said. "When I had _given up_ because that is exactly what you are doing right now."

"That is _not_ what I am―"

"Yes, it is even if you don't want to admit it!" He shouted louder. " _You are giving up!_ And Lexi? She wouldn't let me give up. I'm not going to let you."

And just like that . . . she felt her resolve weaken. She knew, now, that she'd been wrong. Her 'suicidal martyr missions' . . . it was wrong. She wanted to protect the ones she loved . . . but the way she was doing it was wrong.

Stefan told her more about Lexi. How she helped him control his blood craving, practically put him through a 9-step system to become a better vampire.

"I don't mean to be so harsh . . ." Stefan's voice was rough, low. Elena couldn't move. "Lexi helped me get my humanity back. She said, "there is a better way, you simply have to want it."

The words cut down deep in Elena's chest. It was true . . . she wasn't a vampire. But the way she'd gone about all this . . . it shut down her humanity. Thinking about it now . . . it all started when Katherine compelled Jenna to stab herself. It had truly scared her . . . and the simple solution to it not happening again seemed, at the time, to be to stop dating Stefan. That was her first mistake. She'd let Katherine win . . .

She listened as Stefan continued to tell her about Lexi, who told him that he had to let his humanity back in . . . everything – including the painful parts of humanity – because hurt led to love.

"Lexi showed me that there was another way," Stefan said. Elena still couldn't move as he stepped toward her. "And from that day forward, I started fighting for it. For my own survival." She sighed, ashamed. She'd been weak, and she knew it. He rested his hand on her cheek. "That's all I want you to do. I just want you to fight for it."

He was right.

She suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she leaned in, relaxed, as he held her chin on either side and kissed her forehead.

And then . . . he looked in her eyes one more time before walking away back inside the house.

She was left on the balcony to ponder what he'd said. She still wanted to protect the ones she loved . . . but maybe they could find another way. Maybe if she _wanted_ it enough . . .

Of course, she was still mad at him and Damon both for not being truthful about what they were doing and leaving her out of it. But . . . she understood that they, too, were just trying to protect her.

She sighed, going back into the house to continue reading Jonathan's journals. At this point, she was too immersed to not continue reading.

Stefan came down the stairs. She looked up. He was twirling his phone, setting it down on the counter next to him. "Elijah's dead. Alaric did it."

Elena nodded as Stefan sat down beside her. "Originals believed in truth and honor. It was forbidden for a vampire to kill another vampire. So the dagger would take both lives. And . . ." She sighed. "As long as the dagger stays in place the Originals, for all intended purposes, are dead."

She looked up, confused when Stefan rushed over to his phone and started dialing. "Damon! Is the dagger still in Elijah? Its the only way he stays dead . . ."

Elena's eyes widened.

"The dagger, Damon!" Stefan's voice was strained. "It has to stay in the Original's heart!"

"Stefan, what's going on?" Elena's voice cracked.

Stefan turned to her. "He's gone."

"Oh god . . ." She held her breath. "He'll come here, I know he will. For all purposes, I broke the deal . . ."

"We have to do something . . ." Stefan pressed a button on his phone, putting it on speaker.

"Well, yeah, but what?" Elena heard Damon over the phone.

"The dagger," Elena stood up. "Bring the dagger here, quickly. I think I have a plan . . ."

"Elena . . ." Stefan said, worried.

"Done. . ." Damon hung up.

"You can't, Elena . . ." Stefan put his phone back in his pocket. He closed the space between them, his hands on her arms.

"I have to . . ." She whispered. "It's the only way. I'll renegotiate the deal and if he doesn't agree . . ."

"What?" Stefan's brow creased.

"I'll take a few notes from Katherine . . ." She sighed.

"No," Stefan shook his head. "I won't allow it."

"I don't actually plan on becoming a vampire tonight or dying," Elena said. "Elijah just needs to be reminded of the possibility. It'll throw him off guard . . . and then I'll stab him with the dagger."

"I don't like it," Stefan shook his head. "It's too risky." His voice lowered and he pulled her into his arms, his face in her neck. "I can't lose you, Elena."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, inhaling his cologne. "You won't. I just need you close by."

He nodded, pulling his head back. "Always." He hugged her tight and she held him back. She felt tears tug at her eyes but she held them back. There would be time to break down later. Right now she needed to be strong.

Stefan sighed, pulling back. "Damon's here. He'll need an invite."

He kissed her lovingly as her hand entwined with his. He followed her to the door and she opened it, still holding tightly onto his hand.

Damon appeared on the porch with the dagger in one hand and the bottle of ash in the other. "We need to be fast. He'll be here any minute."

"Come in," Elena sighed, nodding. She leaned into Stefan's embrace as Damon entered the house, closing the door behind him. They went into the kitchen as Elena explained the plan to Damon. He seemed to not like it as much as Stefan but agreed it was the only way. He suggested he hide upstairs so Elijah wouldn't know he was there.

Stefan and Elena agreed, watching as Damon dipped the edge of the dagger in the bottle. He handed it over to Elena, who crossed her arms and hid it up her sleeve. She picked up another knife, a kitchen knife, from the table and held it against her other arm. Damon sped upstairs. Stefan stepped behind her and held her. It felt good to be in his arms. It made her feel safe and despite her fear for what she was about to do, it gave her the courage she needed.

"Make sure you don't go too high. Or too low," He whispered. "Even with my blood, it could cause serious damage later. And not too deep. Pull the blade out as soon as you can and put pressure on the wound." She nodded, feeling comforted by his hot breath on her neck.

She started walking away toward the living room when Stefan grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "He's here . . ."

Elena felt her heart skip a beat. She was scared. What if she couldn't convince him? What if she missed? What if Stefan couldn't get to her on time? She turned to look at Stefan, needing to look at him.

Then the door exploded, flying toward them. She gasped and Stefan pulled her back out of the way.

"You have to go," She said quickly, wanting to kiss him but there wasn't time. "I need to talk to him alone."

"Elena . . ."

"Stefan, I'm okay," She assured him. "He can't come in the house." He stared into her eyes and she could see he was just as scared as she was.

"You know," Elijah said from outside. "I might not be able to enter this house but . . . I am a very patient man. I'll wait you out."

Elena turned, gulping, trying to ready herself for the task at hand. She tried to compose herself and not let her fear show as she walked in Elijah's view. Her arms were still crossed and she felt the dagger chafe against the skin under her sleeve.

She walked slowly, "They shouldn't have done what they did."

"The deal is off," Elijah said.

She tried to put force in her voice. "I'm _renegotiating._ _"_

"You have nothing left to negotiate with," Elijah stepped forward.

She took a deep breath, feeling it was time to lay out his options for him. She slid the kitchen knife from her arm and held it out, her voice shaking. "I'd like to see you lure Klaus into Mystic Falls after the doppelganger _bleeds_ _to death_."

"Stefan wouldn't let you die," Elijah was calm.

"No, he won't," At least they agreed on that much. "He'll feed me his blood to heal me. And then I'll kill myself and become a vampire just like Katherine did."

Elijah seemed to be considering her words. She really hoped he agreed.

"So unless you want that to happen again, promise me the same as before. Promise me . . . you won't harm anyone I love." She said, quickly adding. "Even if they've harmed you."

Elijah just smirked. Her heart was hammering in her chest. "I'm sorry, Elena." Elena listened carefully to what he said. His gaze was on the knife in her hands. "I'm going to have to call your bluff."

She sighed, trying to remember where and how Stefan had told her to do this. Elijah didn't believe her. She had to do this. She took a deep breath, flipping the knife around in her hand. She held it tight in her fist, letting it hover above her abdomen. Elijah's gaze dropped to where the knife hovered. Oddly, he was still smiling. He still didn't believe her.

She took another deep breath, readying herself for the pain she knew was to come. She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them to stare straight at Elijah. She tightened her face as she plunged the blade in her gut. White-hot pain overwhelmed her senses and for a moment she forgot what she was doing. She cried out in pain, bending over.

Elijah's jaw dropped as he shouted, "No!"

Boiling hot blood gushed from the wound as she held her ground. Elijah rushed forward, blocked by the barrier. She gasped as she pulled the blade out, holding her hand over the wound as Stefan had told her to. The kitchen knife clattered on the porch ground. All she had to do was wait for him to agree . . . then it would be over.

. . . but she didn't know if she could hold out much longer. Even with her hand over it, she was losing a lot of blood fast.

"Yes . . ." She'd barely heard it. "Yes, you can have your deal!"

She felt like she was going to pass out. She groaned in pain. It hurt so much . . . "Let me heal you!" Elijah said.

"Give me your word!" She shouted desperately.

"I give you my word . . ." He finally said.

She panted, stumbling forward over the threshold. If she didn't have blood soon, it would be too late. She could feel the life slip away from her.

She lunged forward, making it look like she would collapse in his arms. But when he grabbed her she pulled the real dagger from up her sleeve and plunged it in his heart – leaving it there.

She heard him gasp and felt his body go limp. He dropped to the ground, his skin now faded gray.

Blood rushed even more quickly from her stomach and she sunk to the ground. Moments later Stefan was at her side, pushing his bleeding wrist against her mouth and holding the back of her head.

Warmth spread through her as she drank his blood, feeling the wound in her stomach slowly heal. When she let go she took a deep breath, letting Stefan hold her up.

She barely noticed as Damon stepped onto the porch. "Little tip . . . don't pull the dagger out . . ."

She collapsed into Stefan's arms and he stood, picking her up. She felt a rush as he sped them inside to the bedroom that used to be her parents and lay her on the bed.

He sped over to the door and closed it. "Stefan . . ." She panted, her head feeling heavy as she rested against the pillows.

He sped back over to her and unbuttoned her sweater, pushing it aside. Then he lifted her shirt to just below her bra. He sat down on the bed beside her and gently examined where the wound had been. It hadn't completely healed yet but it was looking better.

"How do you feel?" His voice was worried, staring back and forth between her eyes and the wound.

"It's healing," She said. "I can feel it." She took a deep breath, reaching for his hand. She held on to it tight. "I'm okay. We did it. Elijah's dead."

The door opened and Elena jumped. Stefan rolled his eyes, turning toward the door. "Damon, out."

"We should really get back to Mystic Falls," Damon said.

Stefan moved so Damon couldn't see Elena's exposed skin. Elena's hand let go of his and rested on Stefan's thigh.

"Give us minute," Elena said. "Please, Damon."

Damon nodded, ducking out of the room. Stefan turned back to her. "Will you be okay on the way home? Or do you want to spend another night here and go back to Mystic Falls tomorrow?"

She took a deep breath, reaching for his hand again. "No, I'll be okay. Besides, we have school in the morning. It's been way too long since we've gone."

He chuckled, "Probably, yeah."

"But . . . let Damon drive home," She said. "I need you in the backseat with me."

He nodded, "Okay. I'll pack our things, you sleep for a bit. I'll wake you when we're set to go."

He leaned over, kissing her softly on the lips. He pulled down her shirt and buttoned her sweater, pulling the blanket at the end of the bed over her. Her eyes became heavy and she was asleep even before he stood up and left the room.

* * *

When she awoke, she found herself in Stefan's arms. The road was a blur . . . they were already in the car. Stefan was stroking her hair and she smiled. Stefan looked down. "Hi. Have a nice nap?"

"I still feel a little groggy," Her voice felt scratchy.

"That's what happens when you stab yourself and drink your boyfriend's blood," Damon spoke from the driver's seat.

She ignored Damon's words. Her whole body ached horribly. She adjusted, resting against Stefan's chest. Then the car pulled into the Boarding House driveway.

Stefan and Damon got out and went to the trunk. Elena crawled slowly out of the car, her stomach hurting worse than any cramps she'd ever had. She clutched it as she slowly followed Stefan and Damon inside as they carried Elijah's dead body. She continued to follow them down to the basement where they dropped Elijah down on the ground.

Stefan wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into him.

Damon reached into Elijah's pocket. "What have we got here?" He pulled out a familiar white rock. "Our little moonstone bar of soap . . . I'll hold onto this."

"So . . . that's it?" Elena looked at Stefan. "I mean, as long as we keep the dagger in there . . . then he stays dead."

"Pretty much," Damon said.

"Okay then" She nodded. She turned to Stefan, giving him one of the nonverbal looks they'd developed between the two of them. He nodded. "Good night, then." Then she turned, "You know, you guys want me to fight? Fine. I'll fight. But if we're gonna do this you can't keep anything from me anymore. From this moment on, we're doing it my way."

"Seems fair," Damon shrugged, nodding.

She looked to Stefan for his confirmation and he too nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," She turned, headed upstairs to Stefan's room. Her stomach hurt, her clothes were covered in blood, and she was physically and mentally exhausted. Before she had even reached the stairs, Stefan was at her side. His hands rested on her waist, guiding her, as she went up the stairs. As they crossed through the living room, he held on to one of her hands. They continued up the other stairs to his room. He closed the door behind them and she walked over to the bed. She sank down on the bed, sitting. She started to unbutton her sweater, but her fingers wouldn't cooperate.

Stefan sat down next to her, gently pushing her arms down before he himself unbuttoned her sweater and peeled it off of her. She sat there, lethargic and with heavy-feeling limbs, as he continued to peel off her shirt, pants, shoes, and socks. He was careful not to jostle her too much so as not to irritate the small wound still on her stomach. He reached over to the end of the bed and grabbed the shirt of his that she often wore. He slid it over her head and pulled her arms out of the sleeves.

"You're not as healed as you should be," He said quietly.

She nodded, "I think I went a little too far in." She took a deep breath, holding her stomach.

"You seem to still be in a lot of pain," Stefan noticed.

"Everything's aching," She told him.

"Maybe I should give you more blood, heal faster," He suggested. She nodded, sighing. He bit the inside of his wrist and with the other hand held her behind her back. She sucked the blood from the wound on his arm, letting go a few minutes later. She wiped her mouth, taking a deep breath. "Better?"

"Y-yeah . . ." She let out a breath. "Just tired. I'll feel better in the morning." Her eyes drooped. He nodded, pulling back the comforter and helping her crawl underneath before crawling in beside her. She leaned into his embrace and moments later was fast asleep.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . that's the end. After this would pick up at the beginning of 2.16 "Houseguest".


End file.
